


Letters

by meet_me_onthe_equinox



Category: Parks and Recreation, parks and rec
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, WWII, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 08:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 16,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11309697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_me_onthe_equinox/pseuds/meet_me_onthe_equinox
Summary: Collection of letters between Andy and April after he goes off to World War II.





	1. 1942

August 30, 1942

Dear April,

I thought I would never find the time to sit and write to you. We arrived in London this morning, and all the settling has been a mess. I like my roommate, though. His name is Ben, and he’s so skinny I think I could lift him with one arm. He’s been on the road all his life; so much so, that the man can’t even tell me where he is really from. Ben doesn’t talk much, but he is incredibly good at battle strategies. I think I’ll make it out alive if I keep him close out there.

As for me, I have yet to adapt. Everything is so different here. I mean, these people drive on the other side of the road, dress funny and talk in a weird accent. Oh, and the Piccadilly Circus? Not even a circus. They also eat super early; breakfast is served at 6 am. Remember when we used to stay up until that very hour? Ugh, I miss you, babe. That is the hardest part of it all, not having you here. Or me not being there, more like. Because if I were, I wouldn’t have to fly this B-17 over these strange lands. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a pilot, but I know very well what we are doing with them. We’re hurting people, April, killing them. I hope… I hope you can forgive me. And I hope I can, too.

But enough about me. How are things in Pawnee? How did that interview go? How are you? Please, tell me everything.

Love you,

Andy.

* * *

September 5, 1942

Dear Andy,

First of all, letters suck. It takes forever for them to come, and the longer I have to wait, the more worried I get. I always have this gut feeling that something bad has happened to you. Dad turns the radio on every night, and so do I in the morning, but they won’t give us any clear information. So, please, write as much as you can.

That Ben you talk about seems like a nerd to me, haha. But I’m glad you found someone nice there. What about the others? I hope your colonels or whatever aren’t treating you like I’ve read they do with their inferiors. And, if they are, please egg their underwear for me.

Pawnee you say? Well, it’s the usual boring, except this place makes no sense without you around. Now I’m busy trying to keep my parents from basically forcing Natalie to marry some rich guy from Eagleton. He is so disgusting, you couldn’t even imagine. Nat is planning on running away if they don’t yield.

The interview went as awful as I expected… But they hired me, anyway. It’s kind of silly to write poetry these days: people want news, not a few lines on despair and scenery. But Leslie, my boss there, says that that is exactly what people need, something else to think about for a while. I don’t know if she is right, but I can use the money, anyway.

Please, babe, don’t torment yourself. War is a hell none of us asked for, or deserve. You are not a monster, they are. And I will love you no matter what. Just don’t forget that. Don’t forget that I will be waiting for you, here, until you come back. Because there is still a whole life ahead of us, a life beyond that hell they dragged you into.

Stay safe, okay? And please, write.

Yours,

April.

PS: if you show this letter to anyone, I’ll kill you before Germans do.

* * *

September 19, 1942

Dear April,

Would you get jealous if I told you I’m writing at a brothel? Because if you would, I’d better not say anything about it. You’d have no reason to be, though, because I didn’t let any of those girls get their hooks on me. The other guys in the company did, except for Ben, whom I left by the bar before I made my escape to the restroom. I guess they are just lonely, and probably don’t have a girl at home to write to. Thank God I do.

First of all, congrats on that new job!! I’m so, so proud of you, honey! Could you send me some of the stuff you write for the magazine? I’d love to read that, even though, as you know, I don’t always get it. It’d be better if you could explain the verses to me, like we used to do at home.

My superiors are the worst. They are always yelling at us, and it’s like we are nothing to them. But, the moment they are gone, we’re good. I’ve made some other friends around here, Tom and Chris. Tom is quite funny, but Chris is always crying and terrified of everything. Can you blame him, though?

I’m so sorry to hear about Natalie. If your parents insist, hide her in my cabin. You know where it is, no one would ever find her there. The key is at my parent’s house, inside a white jar at the top of my wardrobe. You could make my mother a pie or something and she’ll let you in.

And thank you, babe. I’m pretty sure your letters are what’s keeping me sane here. I love you so much, and I can’t wait to go back home, hug you, lift you up easier than I can lift Ben, and then have what these kinds of places can’t offer, not even to those who are lonely enough to try.

Miss you,

Andy.

* * *

October 8, 1942

Dear Andy,

Maybe it’s the distance, or maybe it’s all the extra space in my bed that I just can’t stand anymore. Maybe it’s because the nights are getting colder, longer, and for the first time I’m hating the quietness of those heavy hours. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m missing you so bad. But I believe you. I trust you.

I’m sorry it took me this long to answer. I ended up taking Natalie to the woods, and then I had to act like I knew nothing about her disappearance. People started going out in groups, searching for her, but of course they were looking at the wrong places. Then we came up with this plan so they would stop: Nat wrote a note explaining why she’d left, and I pretended I’d just found it under the kitchen base cabinet. At least now they know no one murdered her. Thank you for letting us use your cabin, by the way. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come up with that idea.

Apart from that, there is no other news I can tell you about. Well, there is this Halloween dance that they are throwing at City Hall on the 31st. They say people are allowed to dress up as they like, and at first I thought I’d make myself a clown costume. I know clowns are not scary, but what I had in mind would be. Yet again, what’s the point if you won’t be there? There is no fun in freaking everybody out unless we can do it together. So, I’ll probably stay at home and write, but only for myself.

Love,

April.

PS: I hope you like the poem (turn the paper over). Don’t show it to anyone!

* * *

October 23, 1942

Dear April,

We were under attack yesterday. Don’t worry, I’m okay. I just sprained my ankle, and I can’t hear properly out of my left ear. But, hey, at least I’m not completely deaf like some of the others. The doctor recommended that I rest at the dorm for a couple of weeks, and it’s been super boring ever since. But, at the same time, the longer I stay indoors, the fewer people I hurt.

Another good thing came out of it: after we were bombed, our sergeant was relegated and sent to another company. A guy named Ron replaced him, and, despite being cold as ice, he lets us do our thing and isn’t yelling all the time. In fact, he talks even less that Ben does, but it seems like he knows what he is doing here.

And about that dance, c’mon, you should totally go! Sure there’ll be free food and candy, and you can pull one of your cool pranks and tell me everything about it afterwards. You know I could use a funny story. I loved your poem, by the way. I don’t quite know what a ‘‘negligence’’ is, but please, keep sending them.

Don’t worry about my cabin. Just make sure your sister takes good care of it so you and I can move there someday.

Dying to see you,

Andy.

PS: that’s just a saying, I’m not really dying.

* * *

November 28, 1942

Dear Andy,

Not even a day has passed since you left, and here I am, writing to you because these damn cookies take forever to bake. Well, that’s not the only reason. The truth is, I already miss you.

Having you here this last month has been wonderful, but it seems like now I have to pay the price. The memories won’t stop playing in my mind, from our last kiss yesterday (my God, those military aircrafts are loud!) to your Halloween surprise. I still haven’t forgotten the lyrics of that song you made up under my window, and I’m so sorry you had to see me in my ridiculous pajamas. Well, I guess it’s your fault for coming back unannounced and deciding we’d have the best night ever. Seriously, I bet people won’t ever see clowns the same way after what we did.

Anyway, I hope you arrived safely. Keep writing, okay?

Love you,

April.

PS: since your new sergeant was permissive enough to let you rest here until Thanksgiving, maybe you could convince him to give you leave by Christmas.

PPS: Gee, that sounded desperate. But these are desperate times, right?

* * *

December 20, 1942

Dear Andy,

I read the news. I know things are getting more and more complicated over there. But not hearing from you is killing me. I don’t even know if I’m sending these to the right address anymore.

But, if you ever get this, write me back. Please. I know I’d be acting paranoid in any other scenario, but this is the worst-case one. Well, not actually. The _worst_ is something I can’t even think of.

Please, just tell me you are okay.

April.


	2. 1943

February 4, 1943

Dear April,

First of all, I’m sorry. Second, I didn’t die. I swear, baby, I didn’t. But things have been tough around here. Our quarters were bombed last month. Luckily, there was no one inside; we all were at the airport, since Ron had allowed us to go home for the holidays. I didn’t tell you anything because I wanted to give you another surprise -I had a new song prepared, and believe me, it was amazing-. Anyway, you know how bad I am at lying; you would have noticed right away, even in letters. That is why I didn’t write at first.

The news about the bombing got to us right before taking off, and Ron said we must stay and find another place to set our new quarters. I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointing that was. I needed a break, babe, I really did. All these people we are killing… Tom says we should pretend like they are just ants. He finds them disgusting, so that way he can handle it. Well, I can’t. As for Chris, he went home. Although I’ve heard he is now in a place called _The Peace of Mind_ , where doctors are putting wires on his temples so he won’t be so scared anymore.

Yeah, I needed a rest from it all. But, above all, I couldn’t wait to see you; it was everything I cared about at that point. Yet, let’s say Ron’s orders are not to be taken lightly. He is a nice guy, but trust me, you don’t want to have him against you. So, next thing I know, I’m sleeping alone at that new camp with only your photo in my pocket –you are going to have to send me another one, this one is getting yellow and it’s torn at the edge,- enduring this British winter as best as I could.

After that I kept waiting for your letters, but they never came. I waited for almost a month, getting all excited when I saw Jerry the mailman, only to hate him when he told me there was nothing for me. Once I even threw the pie I was eating to his face. I hated myself for not having written to you since I left Pawnee, but I was convinced that it was too late by then. You probably thought I was dead, and maybe even married someone else. But, after the pie incident, Ben asked me why I’d been in such a funk lately. After I told him, he said you were probably sending the letters to our previous address, since I hadn’t told you about the moving. Babe, I face-palmed so hard, the sound made everyone turn their heads. So, write to this address from now on, okay?

There isn’t much other news around here, except for the fact that trainings are getting even more intense. Ben says the government is planning a big move. We’ll see.

How about you? I must have missed a lot of letters; only God knows where they ended up. Tell me about things at home. Tell me about you.

Miss you,

Andy.

PS: Don’t forget about the photo!

* * *

February 13, 1943

Dear Andy,

HOW COULD YOU FORGET TO TELL ME YOU’D MOVED TO ANOTHER PLACE?? You have no idea what the past couple of months have been like for me. It’s been HELL, Andy. Luckily for you, I couldn’t even consider the idea of you being dead, so I never thought you were. That is, until last week, when I started running out of distractions – my poems turned so awry Leslie thought I should take some days off. After all, we can only lie to ourselves for a limited amount of time.

That being said, thank goodness you are okay! You’d better visit soon to make up for it, though. Also, if you want another photo so much, come and get it yourself. I stopped showing up on pictures when I became a vampire, so it will have to be an old one.

Anyway, I… I’ve just missed you. I do every day.

Quite a few things have happened since you last were here. They found Natalie. Some guy was hunting in the woods and saw her through a window. And, since there are no secrets in this stupid town, my parents were informed in less than an hour afterwards.

The ‘‘good’’ thing is, that Wreston St. James creep is no longer interested in her. Apparently, I caught his eye while Natalie was gone… which gave my parents a new aim. Even though I refused to think you were dead, they were quite convinced of the opposite. I told them that I love _you_ , and that I would sooner run away than marry that fossil. But there is no hideout for me now, and my parents are well aware of it.

My only hope is that he will stop liking me, as he did with Nat. You’d think there are plenty of pretty, sophisticated girls in Eagleton. Well, there must be, but it seems like this guy is looking for something less conventional, or ‘‘the real thing’’, as he always says. Someone who doesn’t always sit straight, can whistle and swears every once in a while. As if any of it was a strange for any girl to do. Fuck that!

The point is, introducing him to one of those snobs won’t work, and acting obnoxiously would only make him like me more. But don’t worry, babe. Your last letter proved my parents wrong. They know I will wait for you. And they can’t really force me, can they?

Write to me soon, okay? Remember you owe me like a hundred of these.

Love you,

April.

* * *

February 28, 1943

Dear April,

I sure would write you ~~a hundred~~ a thousand letters if that made you forgive me. I still feel so bad about it, honey. You should date a guy with at least half a brain, haha. Not that Wreston, though. He seems like an old goat to me. I’m so glad Nat is safe now, but we need to think of something that would scare him away. Oh, I know! Put your clown costume on and haunt his house! Then, tell him you’ve been a serial killer all this time, like you did with the Langmans at the ball. And, if that goes wrong –which I doubt, because that costume was amazing- I’m sure your parents won’t make you. I won’t let that happen.

I have some news, too. First and most importantly, I saw the oddest dog the other day. It was a three-legged dog, so cute, yet so dirty and starving. He had trouble walking, and I bet digging, too. Ron said some bomb must have blown away his leg, and that we should leave him there and let stronger curs replace him. I asked him if that was an order and he said:

‘‘No, son. It’s just the law of nature.’’

So, I wasn’t breaking any rules when I decided to take him to the dorms, clean him a bit and give him some food. Now he follows me everywhere. I named him Champion, because he is the champion of food contests. God, he is always so hungry.

I will send you a photo of Champion if you send me one of yours. I don’t care if it’s old. Deal?

As for the other news, seems like our efforts are focusing on destroying the Luftwaffe now, which is somewhat better than bombing civilians. The bad thing is I crave for waffles every time I hear that word, and it’s hard to pay attention when they give us instructions. Other than that, I’m fine.

Love,

Andy.

PS:  happy belated Valentine’s Day. I know you hate it, but there you have it anyway.

PPS: Ben is here as I write. He says hi. Haha, I just told him you think he is a freak. He said: ‘‘okay’’.

* * *

March 11, 1943

Dear Andy,

GREAT NEWS on this side, too!! Wreston is moving out of state! The army called him up for office work somewhere in the Pacific. Apparently, he is too old to be a real soldier, but it seems like they can use a larger workforce now that most of the younger ones have been redeployed to Europe.

He said our wedding would have to be postponed. My parents agreed, but I bet they would have wanted an actual engagement between us before he left. I was so happy, though, that I didn’t even bother to put up a fight. I just smiled and nodded, because something tells me I will never see him again. Now I just want to see _you_ , and celebrate that everything is going to be okay. It… it has to be.

I already love Champion – you had me at “three-legged dog”. I hope I get to meet him some day. For now, I’m so glad you decided to adopt him. You should train him to bite Tom’s ass next time he compares ants to people. Ants are way cooler.

Oh, I have to leave. Orin is downstairs; we are egging Wreston’s house now that it’s empty.

Love you tons,

April.

PS: There goes the stupid photo. I also sent a poem for Ben. Tell me what he thinks about it.


	3. 1944

April 12, 1944

Dear Andy,

I HATE MY PARENTS. I know you don’t like me to say that, but you might change your mind when I tell you about last weekend. They just don’t care about me at all, and I now realize they probably never have. The only thing that matters to them is money, and how their two bimbos can make a living without a brain. It’s like they don’t know us the least bit. And you know another thing they couldn’t care less about? Our engagement.

Remember that Wreston meathead that wanted to marry me last year? Well, turns out he sliced off a couple of fingers with a paper shredder. He can’t even do office work, and that has me wishing they’d sent him to Europe - he wouldn’t have lasted a day. Anyway, he was told to come back home after that, and guess whose house he decided to visit first?

Yes, half of the Ludgates were thrilled to see him again, and even invited him over for dinner. Natalie and I barely touched our food – as cool as deformed hands are, Wreston’s presence was still disgusting per se. And his smell… Ugh, babe, there are no words to describe it.

You’d think my dad would have in mind that conversation the two of you had last Christmas before you left. You’d think he would at least respect that. But that is because you tend to assume everyone is good enough to do the right thing, that every action responds to a minimum of decency. And I love that about you, but honey, not all people are like that, especially not my parents.

Now they say I have no evidence that you actually proposed to me. Can you believe that? They weren’t around when it happened, and since you gave me a candy ring, there is no way I can prove it to them. Don’t get me wrong, it was delicious; this is definitely not your fault.

They have been planning all the wedding details ever since that night. Even the date has been set: may 3rd. There is no runaway this time. It is my word against theirs, but I feel mute. Should I kill him before this goes any further? Prison seems like a way better option.

Seriously, babe, I don’t know what to do. Hope this gets to you soon enough. But enough to what?

Love you,

April.

* * *

April 26, 1944

Dear April,

I barely have time to write. Rehearsals for Operation Overlord are now more intense than ever. They won’t let us catch a breath, and it feels like we are sleeping two minutes a night. I even fell asleep while sitting on the toilet yesterday.

Anyway, babe, those are terrible news, and I would be SO scared if I hadn’t good news myself. I also have a plan. Well, it was actually Ben’s idea, but let us pretend I was the one who came up with this so we have a great story to tell our grandchildren, okay?

So, you know how Ron is always saying I’m one of his best men, right? Even though I never put much effort into this. However, ever since I got your letter ~~and talked to Ben about it~~ , I have been working as hard as I could so Ron would like me even more. After that I asked him for an early leave and of course he couldn’t say no. Still, I tried to tell him about your situation so the whole thing was more convincing.

‘‘Don’t care,’’ Ron interrupted me. ‘‘You indeed earned a break, son. Go see your girl.’’

So, I should be coming home by the end of this week. Gotta go now. I will not let any of that happen. Be prepared.

Lots of love,

Andy.

* * *

May 6, 1944

Dear Andy,

I know we didn’t have much time to talk about things on your wedding day. Or ever, actually. Okay, that might have something to do with my tendency to hide away during social events, but still. I never got to thank you for lending me your cabin that time, or for taking my annoying sister away from home – now I have two bedrooms to myself. Also, you make April happy or whatever, so thank you.

Besides that, I just wanted to say I think what you did was amazing. I have always wanted to break into someone’s wedding, but I never gathered the courage to do so. I couldn’t even speak out when the preacher asked if there was any reason Wreston shouldn’t marry her. But then there you were, just when everyone assumed you would never make it. And Wreston’s face… oh, God. Priceless.

Anyway, that was kind of incredible. I can see why she likes you. And, even though my parents still cannot, you made it pretty clear that that doesn’t mean a thing.

You guys enjoy your honeymoon. I don’t think it is hunting season yet, so you should be fine there.

Best wishes,

Natalie.

PS: Don’t forget to draw the curtains.

* * *

May 13, 1944

Dear April Ludgate-Dwyer,

Sorry, I couldn’t help that. It just feels so good to ~~say~~ write. I still can’t believe we are married. I am telling everyone here. Ron is not very pleased; he’d rather have me as focused as I was before leaving, but the others seem so happy for us. I even sent a letter to ‘‘Peace of Mind’’ so even Chris knew about it.

Now I can’t wait to come back again and be the husband you deserve. By the way, how are things at home? Are your parents still mad? How is Natalie? Tell me everything.

Miss you,

Andy.

* * *

May 25, 1944

Dear Andy,

I actually _can_ believe we are married. Things feel differently now, you know? I don’t have that strain inside my chest anymore, and not only because Wreston is gone forever. I feel genuinely good, and even my parents have noticed, apparently. They have never mentioned what happened and, surprisingly enough, neither of them seems to hold any grudges. Not that they quite like you, and not that I care if they do. But at least now they keep their mouths shut.

Natalie is doing good, I think. She is not a big fan of sharing things, but some guy has been coming around lately to pick her up. His name is Derek, I’ve heard, and I think he is new in town; I had never seen him before. The point is Nat looks happier, too.

As for me, well, I am kind of worried about something. Well, _worried_ is not really the word, but I can’t think of anything else. I didn’t get my period this month. It might be just a false alarm, but I can’t help but pondering all the possibilities, ~~and what would you think~~ God, I wish you were here.

Love you,

April.

* * *

June 1, 1944

Dear April,

OH, MY GOD

OH, MY GOD

OH, MY GOD

I mean, is this for real? I started bouncing around and screaming when I read it, and Ron has me now doing all the cleaning as a punishment. He said there was no reason to react that way since it might have been nothing. But I couldn’t help it. Wouldn’t it be AWESOME to have a baby? Guess I just got carried away… and forgot about my current situation.

Operation Overlord begins in less than five days. We are taking Normandy, and us pilots are going to play a massive role there. I don’t mean to worry you, honey, but it is a big deal, bigger than anything I have been involved in so far. I don’t know how long it is going to take us, either.

But, if no letters from me get to Pawnee, just know I love you so, so much. That you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. And that I never liked corn.

Yours always,

Andy.


	4. 1945

June 20, 1945

Dear April,

I just woke from the worst nightmare. It has almost become the norm these days, but this one was especially terrifying. We were in Normandy again, and all my comrades died before my eyes. I’ll spare you the details. Something hit my plane, and then it was all darkness. My sheets were all drenched in sweat when I sat up in bed, and you weren’t even there. I calmed myself a bit when I saw Ben sleeping in the cot next to mine, but the empty one across the room reminded me I couldn’t save Tom in real life either.

Writing to you seems like the only way I can deal with this. It always has been. But, after everything we’ve been through, I realize how lucky I am. We lost too many people along the way (Ron even lost a toe), but we are alive, after all. Why we, and not them, is a question that will always haunt me. But I still want to live what is left for me of this life, with you, with Jack. Is that selfish of me?

How is he, by the way? How are you? God, our boy must be so big now. He grew like one foot between my last two visits. He’s going to be tall as his old man, babe. And as hot and smart as you are. Shit, I miss you tons.

Love you,

Andy.

* * *

July 2, 1945

Dear Andy,

Ugh, babe, I’m so sorry to hear that. I mean, I knew about the nightmares – I always hate to see you toss and turn in bed, but at least I can wake you up in time whenever you are here. I’m sorry they are getting even worse; I wish I could do something about it. But, if writing helps, write as much as you need to. That is exactly what poetry does for me, so I get it. Plus, no amount of letters from you will ever be enough.

Jack is great. He eats a lot, though. I wonder who he got that from… Leslie lets me work from home, and I guess you were right about my parents. They drop by our house constantly, even though I already told them I can take care of him myself. Apparently, they have forgotten about the past, but I haven’t. I just… I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive them.

As for me, I’m fine. I miss you too, though. Ugh, when are you coming home again? And, speaking of Leslie, she misses Ben, too. She hasn’t stopped talking about him since last Christmas, and I’m so sick of it already. Just bring him with you again and help me shut her up.

Yours,

April.

PS: wanting to be alive is never selfish. I’m sure your peers would have wanted you to be happy. And I do, too, so screw it.

* * *

[…]

* * *

August 6, 1945

Dear April,

GREAT NEWS! I’m coming home again so, so soon! Well, not home, exactly. Turns out, they are sending Ron to Washington D.C. to direct occupation duties from there. Aaand, he asked me if I wanted to go and work for him! He is going to stay there for a while, and Ben thinks we won’t have to go back to Europe after that. Oh, forgot to mention, Ben is coming, too. Ron said we were the best men in his squad. Well, he said we weren’t the worst, but I know him pretty well already.

The thing is I will be working so close to home. They even got me a house there. And I know your whole life is in Pawnee, so I won’t ask you to come. Unless you want to, that is. But I could visit you every week if you don’t, so there is no pressure at all, okay? Anyway, tell me what you think. I’m so excited!!

Dying to see you,

Andy.

PS: the other package I sent is for Jack. It’s a Portuguese machete (not a knife, just the European version of ukulele), that an old man gave to me after we rescued him and his family from the bunker they’d spent years in. I hope it is small enough for Jack to play it.

PPS: I love you both. More than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read. I wouldn't have given a dime for this when I started, but you guys did, and I couldn't be more thankful :)


	5. Missing Moments - Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured (well, lunabelles did), this AU should have some non-epistolary, additional chapters. Let's thank her for coming up with the best ideas :)
> 
> This one was prompted as _the moment when April, Andy and baby Jack were reunited for good._

_August 20, 1945_

Sometimes, Andy was actually able to keep a secret. Especially when it came to surprises, like that time he’d climbed into April’s window, completely unannounced, and took her to the Halloween Ball. All that seemed to have happened a long, long time ago. He felt as if bold, young Andy was now too far from his current self, as if he’d been away for several decades instead of five years.

But there were still some links to the old Andy, ties that bound him to a brighter past, when guns and bombs weren’t yet all over the papers, and Pawneeans’ sole concern was to enlarge their bodies as much as it was required to be let on the Harvest Festival rides. A time when he and April would eat tons of cotton candy as they strolled down the fair aisles, looking for the stand with the cutest teddy bears for Andy to win her. 

And it was precisely April who could still connect him to the life he had left behind… because he never really left, and neither did she. April had been with him the whole time, if only through letters, even with that immense ocean between them. Despite the obstacles, she’d been the only constant throughout the madness. And now all the fun, all the surprises, even his old self… she was the only reason why rescuing those things from the past could still be worth it.

Thus, with nothing else than an old kit bag and a worn out uniform, Andy stepped off the train on a late summer morning. At first he was extremely disappointed with the fact that there was no one at the platform to welcome him home, as it usually happened. But then he remembered he’d come back with no warning; it was all part of his own plan. He’d learned from the past, though, so no letters on his part had stopped arriving to their house in Pawnee. Andy had told his wife about Ron’s offer, as well. But, somehow, he’d managed not to say anything about that early return.

As hard as it was to walk with a limp, the way home from the station seemed to him shorter than usual. Half of his brain still couldn’t believe he was coming back for good; the other was bursting in excitement at the thought of seeing his family again.

 

Andy took a deep breath, a wide smile on his face as he stood by the front door. It was a pretty house, indeed, and the time it took April to come downstairs was enough for him to appreciate all the small details about it that he had missed during his previous visits.

‘‘Go away, Nat! I told you bachelorette parties are not my th-’’ April said, opening the door nonetheless. Of course, Andy’s sight kept her from finishing such complaint.

April’s jaw dropped, but her shocked expression was soon replaced by a huge grin like Andy hadn’t seen in years. Not that she hadn’t shown great excitement whenever he’d come home in the past, but this time was different. The joy in her smile reached her eyes, making them glisten in a way that Andy had only witnessed once before, on the only occasion she’d ever worn a white dress.

In no time, April jumped into his arms, letting out a rare, high-pitched squeal as she hugged him as tight as possible for a girl that slender. Andy was gentler on his behalf, but only because he didn’t want to hurt her. He held her tight enough, though, and buried his face in April’s hair so he could submerge in that scent again. Then he knew - he was really home.

She broke apart just enough to kiss him on the lips as though there weren’t any neighbors peering through their windows. Andy followed suit, not caring at all for the lack of walls around them. If ever a kiss could last forever, that would probably have been the one. But life is full of interruptions, even of the sweetest kind.

Jack’s crying made them both turn their heads towards the inside of the house.

‘‘I just got him to sleep,’’ she sighed, sliding down Andy’s lap until her bare feet reached the floor.

‘‘Let’s go see him,’’ Andy grabbed her by the hand, that smile never leaving his lips.

With the aid of the crib bars, the eight-month-old stood on his legs so he could have a better view of what was happening outside. That also allowed the whimpers to be better heard, but they stopped as soon as he saw his father stepping into the nursery. Exactly like his mother, the little boy smiled wide just then, pointing at his dad with one of his tiny fingers.

‘‘There you are, buddy!’’

Jack even chuckled a bit when Andy scooped him up in his arms and kissed his olive-skinned nose. April approached the two of them, resting her head on Andy’s shoulder as her husband wrapped his free arm around her waist.

‘‘You’d better not go again, Dwyer,’’ April said, running her hand through Jack’s dark hair, who suddenly seemed quite intrigued by Andy’s many medals.

‘‘Well, I hate to say this, honey but… I’ve been sent to D.C., remember? As much as I’d like to stay-’’

‘‘Oh, didn’t you get my last letter? We’re moving there, of course.’’

Andy’s heart skipped a beat.

‘‘What?’’ he asked dumbly. ‘‘Are you serious? I mean, are you sure?’’

‘‘Yeah! I’m not seeing you once a week, Andy. Whether it’s here or in Washington, you are freaking home at last, and I’m not losing that again,’’ April paused there, realizing she might have raised her voice a little too much when Jack looked up from the medals and turned to her. ‘‘It’s okay, baby,’’ she stroked the boy’s cheek. ‘‘I just… I can’t.’’

‘‘I know, babe,’’ Andy rubbed the skin under his hand and kissed her temple. ‘‘Say no more. I just thought, since your whole life is here-’’

‘‘My life is wherever you two are,’’ April rolled her eyes. ‘‘Ugh, don’t make me say stuff like this.’’

That certainly made Andy laugh, but the sound of it still felt foreign. As if it belonged to someone much, much older.

‘‘Plus,’’ she went on, ‘‘this town sucks.’’

‘‘It’s gonna be great, babe. Even Leslie is coming, at least that’s what Ben told me.’’

‘‘Don’t ruin it,’’ she said, but the roll of her lips betrayed her.

And now, for his life, he would try his hardest not to.


	6. Missing Moments - Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested on Tumblr by lunabelles as _the moment Andy first met his son_ :)

_January 2, 1945_

‘‘I’m not leaving,’’ Andy told his wife that morning.

They were both standing up, but April’s legs would sure buckle any time soon. He could feel her weight as she clenched his forearms for support.

‘‘I told you,’’ she grunted. ‘‘I’m fine,’’ April leaned on him and let Andy walk her to the edge of the bed. ‘‘It’s just contractions.’’

‘‘I can’t leave you like this,’’ Andy pulled the blankets over her when she rested her head on the pillows.

“I won’t be alone. My parents are coming ov- Ugh!’’ April put her hands on her rounded belly, another cramp striking her gut. ‘‘Over. Plus, Ron won’t give you leave next month if you keep missing rehearsals.’’

April was right, as always. Their son was due to be born in February, so Andy was getting leave the first week of the following month. If Ron wasn’t mad, that is.

‘‘Okay…’’ he said, though not fully convinced. ‘‘I’ll write to you as soon as I get there.’’

Andy kissed her on the lips, and then again when she grabbed him by the uniform shirt and pulled him in to make it last a little longer. He responded happily, enjoying every bit of it because even a month would be too much time apart. All of him wanted to stay, to live the only way he knew, beside her.

‘‘You’re gonna miss the train.’’

‘‘I don’t care,’’ he kissed her again.

‘‘Andy…’’

April broke apart, but something in her eyes told him it had taken all her power of will to do so.

‘‘All right,’’ Andy pecked her on the forehead before heading towards the bedroom door.

After looking at her one last time, the man accepted his destiny.

* * *

Despite Andy’s delay, the train hadn’t yet left the station when he got to the –right– platform. Engineers, railway companies or whoever was in charge of the schedule would usually take their time those days, maybe because of the recent holidays, maybe because they knew no one really wanted to reach their destination.

Andy kept staring through the compartment window, not really seeing all those mothers and friends say goodbye to those who parted. For some reason, he couldn’t let go of his kit pack, which rested on his lap like a greenish corpse. But dead people were the last thing he wanted to think about. Not that there was much extra space in his brain, anyway. All his thoughts revolved around April, and how she was still screaming in pain when he’d left the house.

The train whistle broke Andy’s reverie, awakening all his senses. One last chance to act. A young woman –who, apparently, had been sitting there the whole time– was startled when he suddenly jumped to his feet. A member of the crew yelled at him when he jumped again, this time off the moving train. He was jumping a lot for a lame soldier.

* * *

Everything sucked. Everything hurt. And everyone was there, except for the one April needed the most. She couldn’t believe he’d been with her less than an hour ago, she’d had him right beside her bed, and she’d been fool enough to let him go. To encourage him, even.

So, the whole world turned upside down when she saw her husband crashing into the door frame of that hospital bedroom. Was she drugged already? Had that stupid nurse given her the wrong medicine?

‘‘April!’’ Andy shouted, his face all red and covered in sweat. ‘‘Sorry I’m late,’’ he panted.

‘‘You are not,’’ Mrs. Ludgate said. The woman smiled at Andy, all grudges left behind but, at least for April, never forgotten.

_What? Was he really there?_

‘‘What are you doing here?’’

‘‘I had this hunch that I had to come back... But there was no one home by the time I got there. Donna was cleaning up the Langmans’ front yard, so I asked her… and here I am.’’

Elated, April stretched out a hand so Andy would walk over her and take it in his, which he did immediately.

‘‘You ran here all the way from your house, kid?’’ Mr. Ludgate asked, staring skeptically at Andy’s left leg.

‘‘I did, sir. Wasn’t easy, though,’’ Andy wiped the sweat off his forehead with his free hand.

‘‘I’m glad you are here,’’ April said to him, ignoring her parents and their private war. There was only one battle she wanted to go into, and only one person she wanted by her side.

* * *

The Ludgates had left a couple of hours ago. As far as Andy was concerned, they really seemed to care now. They never left April’s side either, apart from the delivery itself, that is. And only when their daughter was already fast asleep did they go home to get some rest themselves.

Andy stayed, of course, and was now watching silently while sitting on the shoddy chair beside April’s hospital bed. Mother and son slept peacefully, the latter in Andy’s arms. He was feeling too many things to count, let alone verbalize. Pride ranked high on that list, because he still couldn’t believe what April had done that day. He would make sure all her needs were covered, no matter the distance between them. And Jack’s, too.

Andy looked down at his son, his tiny creation, and somehow the biggest thing in the world. The newborn looked exactly like his mother: a little boy-April, which made him even more perfect. Andy couldn’t wait to teach him all he knew, from the proper way one should eat a hot dog to throwing the perfect spiral, and maybe some basic decency, too.

Jack yawned and snuggled in his arms. Later in life, Andy would be told about their own resemblances, and the way both yawned would be one of them.

‘‘You’re tired, huh?’’ Andy whispered to him, right before becoming aware of his own soreness. His left leg ached as well. ‘‘Me too, buddy.’’

He then eyed his sleeping wife, who had had her fair share of pain to that day, yet kept beating on against the current. Could he really cover all her needs? Would he even have the chance to be the father he’d always wanted to be?

‘‘Me too,’’ Andy sighed.

April’s heart rate monitor kept beeping like a concordant response.


	7. Missing Moments - Nothing and Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lunabelles on Tumblr as _Andy dealing with a bit of PTSD_. Hope this isn't a total mess.

_September 7, 1945_

April never wanted to go there in the first place. Yes, the end of the war was something everyone should celebrate, but there sure were lots of better ways to do so rather than stupid parades and low-cost fairs that bore little resemblance to the ones she would attend before the nightmare started. But Leslie, whose latest articles (and conversations) were all about politics now, wouldn’t miss any of those events. Which would be fine, if she didn’t drag April and Andy with her and Ben every time, as if they were the missing pieces of some pathetic double date.

The only thing April wanted was to stay home and make up for all the time her husband had been gone. As for Andy, he probably wanted the same thing. Except he basically owed his life to the slender, peculiar man who was now married to her boss. April herself owed so much to the blonde woman: Leslie was the mother she never hated. And the main reason she still had a job, by the way.

That day, April could only hope the rain that had been pouring since the early morning would lead to some cancelation. She should be so lucky.

So, there they were yet another evening, standing on the sidewalk as the floats, musicians and dressed-up civilians passed them by. The parade was so low-budget that it felt like a déjà vu – they’d already seen most of it in previous celebrations. Except for the soldiers, who at least hadn’t been called this time. Andy was just happy he didn’t have to walk those three miles again with that limp. No matter how many times April told him otherwise, he still considered it embarrassing. Instead, he watched beside her, Jack in his arms; his mind somewhere else.

 

‘‘Finally,’’ April muttered when she saw the last float approaching. Andy wrapped an arm around her waist, a silent _I know_.

‘‘Oh, it’s not over yet,’’ Leslie said excitedly. ‘‘There is a big surprise coming.’’

‘‘How do you know?’’

‘‘Well, you know I basically live at City Hall now.’’ That was true – even the interviews in the magazine were political now. ‘‘So I did a bit of digging.’’

‘‘What’s the surprise?’’ Andy asked, a curious smile playing on his lips. He loved surprises as much as April hated them.

‘‘See for yourself,’’ Leslie pointed somewhere in the darkening sky.

April noticed Ben averting his look, avoiding the sight of… fireworks. Shot from the ground, the pyrotechnic devices rose and exploded into a million colors. The bombs were no longer targeted at foreign lands, but at the national sky. And, even though the consequences couldn’t be more different, the sound was virtually the same.

Andy’s hand, that up until then had rested gently on April’s hip, tensed and tightened its grip.

‘‘Hey,’’ April turned to face him. Andy’s blank stare said nothing and everything at the same time. Nothing, because he didn’t seem aware of anything else, not even of a terrified Jack burying his face against Andy's collarbone. Everything, because it showed April the true nature of war. She wasn’t listening to the news on the radio. She wasn’t reading some number of deaths in the papers. She wasn’t missing her husband. She was being introduced to the essence of Horror. ‘‘Andy?’’

Ben tapped on his wife’s shoulder. The woman was too caught up in the light show, so it took her a couple of seconds to turn around and see what was happening.

And then, all strength escaped from Andy’s body. His grip on April’s waist loosened, as did the arm that was holding Jack. April reacted just in time to catch her son, who by that time was sobbing uncontrollably. Everything was happening so fast, yet her moves, her thoughts, and the people around them were in slow motion. April couldn’t even hear the explosions anymore. But Andy’s expression proved they were still echoing through the night.

‘‘Let’s take him out of here,’’ Ben took action, grabbing his former comrade by the shoulders so he would turn around. His hands looked incredibly small, his arms seemed too weak to make a man that size move an inch. But, somehow, he did it.

The four of them walked through the amazed crowd, though not without difficulties. Eventually, they reached a quieter street; the houses and locals so empty they might as well have entered a ghost town. Only then did Jack stop crying. The little boy clung to April’s neck as if his life depended on it.

‘‘Here,’’ Leslie indicated a bunch of stairs leading to some office building.

Once inside, Ben and Leslie helped Andy sit down on one of the wooden benches in the hallway. The fireworks were barely audible now.

‘‘What’s happening to him?’’ April’s voice trembled.

Leslie reached for Jack, but April refused.

‘‘The fireworks. They must have triggered… something,’’ Ben babbled as if April didn’t know that already.

‘‘I’m so sorry April,’’ Leslie said. ‘‘I didn’t think-’’

‘‘Andy,’’ April handed Jack to her, accepting both her previous offer and her apology. Then she bent down and grabbed Andy’s face with both hands to get his attention. ‘‘Can you see me?’’

‘‘April…’’ he mumbled.

‘‘Yes. I’m here.’’

Slowly, the former soldier seemed to become more aware of his surroundings. Andy’s eyes focused on hers, finally taking conscience of her presence and his own.

‘‘Are you safe?’’ he asked.

‘‘Yes.’’

Something watery blurred April’s vision.

‘‘We all are,’’ Leslie confirmed, wiping Jack’s tears off his cheek.

Andy put his hands right over April’s, and then reached for her to come closer. She nestled on his lap, exhaling deeply as he hugged her tightly. They remained like that for a while, Andy slightly swaying back and forth, as if that calmed him somehow.

‘‘It’s okay,’’ Ben put a hand on Andy’s shoulder. ‘‘The war is over.’’

Outside, it started raining again.


	8. Missing Moments - Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by the awesomesauce lunabelles as _a missing moment that takes place a little later, with Jack asking Andy why he has a limp, leading to the inevitable conversation about the war._ See? She has the best ideas.

_July 14, 1952_

No matter how many times Jack complained about the heat, the extended amount of daylight and all those bugs returning from hell, Andy knew there were still things his son enjoyed during the summer. Fishing on the Potomac bank was one of them, especially since Ron had told Andy about this off-the-beaten-track place upstream, where fish were plentiful and people were scarce. Plus, the view was amazing.

‘‘I bet I get more fish than you this time,’’ Jack said as he reeled in.

‘‘Really?’’ Andy rolled up his pant legs. ‘‘What makes you think so?’’

‘‘I’m a seer, remember? I had a vision of you giving me your dessert.’’

‘‘Not a chance,’’ Andy couldn’t really tell if the boy was messing with him, but, in any case, he wasn’t willing to risk his slice of April’s Poisonous Pie. Which, by the way, was all but toxic. ‘‘You’re so on!’’

Andy picked his rod up from the ground and wound the reel handle as fast as he could. Jack was already baiting the hook, but it fell from his hands as soon as he finished – he’d forgotten to tie it to the line. Father and son watched as the current dragged the hook towards Andy’s position. Letting it pass by would give him a great advantage – Jack would have to fumble in the tackle box for another one. Still, the man found himself running after it, clumsily (and painfully) stepping on the hard rocks on the bottom of the river. The hook slipped through Andy’s fingers when he finally reached it, but he managed to catch it on second attempt. Of course, he drenched himself in the process.

‘‘Got it!’’ Andy proudly showed it to Jack as he limped towards him.

‘‘Thanks, dad,’’ the kid smiled at his father, yet his wide eyes seemed to be looking right through him. He was dissociating again – April and Jack’s minds would sometimes go elsewhere, and finding more about those whereabouts was one of Andy’s favorite pastimes.

‘‘What?’’ Andy handed Jack the retrieved item.

‘‘Nothing.’’ Considering Andy’s practice, _nothing_ was usually an easy door to open. He could do it with just a look. ‘‘It’s just…’’ the door unlocked, ‘‘I was wondering, what happened to your leg?’’

‘‘Oh, this?’’ Andy pointed at the red marks on his calf. ‘‘I must have scratched it on some rock.’’

‘‘No, I mean… You walk funny,’’ Jack shrugged and gave him an apologetic look. As if he knew there were certain things that shouldn’t be asked. As if that was the reason he’d never asked before. ‘‘Which is pretty cool,’’ he added.

Oddly enough, Andy wasn’t hurt by any of those words. Instead, he realized he’d been unconsciously waiting for that moment, who knew for how long. He just hadn’t gathered the courage to bring it up, maybe because of all the memories that would come along, memories he spent every second trying to avoid. Or maybe because it wasn’t a conversation any seven-year-old should have. Even so, Jack deserved to know.

‘‘Well, it was all because of friendship,’’ Andy sat down on a plain stone; his son followed suit.

‘‘See? That’s why I don’t make any,’’ Jack laughed. Andy didn’t.

‘‘Actually, it would have been way worse if I hadn’t had any friends over there.’’

‘‘Over there as in… Europe?’’

Yes, Jack knew about the war. But only as a vague concept, just the hollow idea of people fighting for countries. Ketchup all over the place. The way it was supposed to be.

‘‘Yeah,’’ Andy paused and took a deep breath. ‘‘Our squad was bombing some German oil plant. A piece of cake, even easier considering we weren’t ki-’’ he cleared his throat. Even the truth had its limits. ‘‘But then some axis fleet came out of nowhere and attacked us.’’

‘‘What’s an axis?’’

‘‘That’s how the bad guys were called,’’ Andy skipped a stone.

‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘Ron started giving us instructions over the radio, but it all soon became a total chaos. I tried my best to dodge the shooting, flying up and down, just hoping I wouldn’t crash into anything.’’ Andy wiped the sweat running down his forehead. ‘‘And then I saw Tom.’’

‘‘A friend of yours?’’

Andy nodded. ‘‘A couple of enemy planes were chasing him. I went right after and shot down one of them… But it was too late. The other one had already shot Tom’s fuel tank. I saw the fireball and I… Paralyzed. That’s when something hit me. My B-17 started spiraling, everything was blurry through the small windows and most of the alarms went off. My left leg ached as hell…’’ Andy stopped right there, a lump starting to form in his throat.

‘‘It’s okay, dad,’’ Jack placed one hand on his father’s shoulder and left it there, like those small fingers could absorb his pain. ‘‘C’mon, let’s catch some fish.’’

And, honestly, there wasn’t anything Andy wanted to do more. Just fishing with his son and forget all about it. Yet, there was something else Jack needed to know and learn from.

‘‘Your uncle Ben,’’ Andy went on. ‘‘He saved me. I was completely lost up there, my aircraft gaining speed as it plummeted. But Ben’s voice woke me. He told me to jump, and reminded me how to use the parachute – I didn’t pay much attention when they taught us because, you know, your mother’s letters were quite concerning at the time.’’

‘‘Concerning how?’’

‘‘Well, that’s a whole other story,’’ Andy chuckled. ‘‘The point is, I survived because I had friends.’’

‘‘Lucky you,’’ Jack muttered. How could a child so little be so self-defeating?

‘‘You have friends, too, Jack. And you know it.’’

The kid rolled his eyes, which was his way of admitting Paul and Tim were actually pretty good friends.

‘‘So, son… Don’t take them for granted, okay?’’

‘‘Okay,’’ Jack looked him in the eye at last, seemingly acknowledging the lesson.

‘‘And now you’d better tie that line carefully. I wouldn’t lose my dessert for the world!’’

Andy stuck his tongue at his son, who hurriedly grabbed the hook again with a playful smile on his lips. And just like that, they both were children again.


	9. Missing Moments - OHIO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lunabelles on Tumblr as _the moment Andy knew he had to go away to war_. Seriously, consider her the co-author.

_November 1, 1940_

Andy Dwyer was probably the luckiest guy in Pawnee, probably Indiana, possibly America. And all because he often had the chance to wake up beside April Ludgate, the coolest girl in town, probably America, possibly the world. The only reason it didn’t happen every day was because both of them still lived at their parent’s, and the Ludgates weren’t exactly the most welcoming family.

However, Andy’s mother would sometimes let the couple spend the night together. She was fine with it as long as whatever happened between Andy’s bedroom walls stayed there. There were few things the woman cared for ever since Mr. Dwyer’s passing, and all the gossip around the neighborhood was definitely not one of them.

That morning, like many others, Andy enjoyed himself just watching April sleep, tracing invisible lines with his finger across her back. She still had most of her make up on from the previous night – that zombie costume was the scariest thing Andy had ever seen – yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her beauty. At least not until a single knock on the door broke his focus.

‘‘Andy?’’ his mother called from the other side of the door.

Well, that was weird. Usually, Mrs. Dwyer gave them some privacy – she’d never interact with them until they went downstairs for breakfast. April turned in bed, nestling against his chest without opening her eyes.

‘‘Not now, mom,’’ Andy whispered.

‘‘It’s important, Andrew. Please, let me in.’’

‘‘Whatever it is can wait,’’ he responded in a normal voice, since April was awake now. Her legs entwined around his as she stretched. ‘‘We’ll be down in a minute.’’

A resigned grunt answered his negative, and then something slid through the crack under the door. Andy sat up in bed, only to see a white envelope on the floor.

‘‘Pick it up,’’ April encouraged him, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand.

Andy did as told. The first thing he noticed was the great quality of the paper. The second was the emblem of the 76th United States Congress.

‘‘Shit,’’ he mumbled.

‘‘What is it?’’ April crawled to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. ‘‘Shit.’’

There was no need to open the letter; they both knew what it was about. Still, Andy did, and words like _Service Act_ confirmed all their suspicions.

‘‘I can’t do this,’’ something started drumming somewhere, but soon he realized it was his own pulse in his ears. ‘‘April, I can’t,’’ Andy’s voice broke.

‘‘Shh, come here,’’ she reached for him, bringing him closer until his head rested on her chest. He found April’s heart was racing as well. ‘‘Here it says it will be just for one year. Plus, it’s probably only for training. Won’t be that bad.’’

‘‘You think so?’’ Andy sat straight so he could look into her eyes… which were filling fast with tears.

‘‘No.’’

They hugged again, as tightly as humanly possible, because maybe that way nothing would ever be able to separate them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHIO (Over the hill in October) were the letters some soldiers painted on the barrack walls as a form of protest, after the original twelve months of their service were extended to eighteen months. Sadly, that is what would happen to Andy. Then Pearl Harbor was attacked, and things got even worse.


	10. Missing Moments - Divine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lunabelles as _when Andy comes home and saves April from the arranged wedding_.  
>  This might be a bit extra on my part n_n"

_May 3, 1944_

The Bridal Chorus sounded like a death march. April’s high heels seemed to be upside down, piercing her soles instead of the ground beneath them. The piercing eyes among the guests kept staring at her from both sides, as though she was some kind of circus attraction. Unlike all the previous times April had felt judged by them, they didn’t just claw or peck; she couldn’t lie to everyone -and herself- by saying there was no way humans could hurt her. This time, April felt like she was being repeatedly and mercilessly stabbed, not only by that audience, not only by her father, now smiling as he walked her down the aisle, but also and foremost, by the absence of those who weren’t there.

Orin, whose looks had got him kicked out of the place by an outraged Mrs. Ludgate. Leslie, who had also been banned after a loud fight against April’s parents. Andy. The person she missed the most wasn’t even represented by an empty seat. He wasn’t even in the damn country – his existence was as ethereal as insignificant. A powerless god only she believed in. Except, no matter how much she prayed to him, there would never be an answer.

A bunch of painful steps after, April found herself in front of the most disgusting man on earth, who was now ogling her from bangs to feet and practically drooling. Larry Ludgate grabbed her hand so Wreston could have it, but she took it away before those wrinkled fingers even touched her skin. The idea of having any sort of contact with that old lecher made April beyond sick.

She couldn’t even look at him. Instead, April turned to the crowd, trying to ignore all faces except the one she was looking for. Soon enough, she found her sister sitting in the second row. Had she asked Natalie to be her bridesmaid, she would have refused… Although who knew if their parents could have forced Nat to. In any case, that was the only way both sisters had been able to show at least a bit of disagreement.

On second thought, maybe that wasn’t the only way. If there was a person that could save her in that open field, it was Natalie. And the chance was about to present itself.

‘‘Should anyone here present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony,’’ the preacher exclaimed -apparently, he had been talking for a while now-, ‘‘speak now or forever hold your peace.’’

April gave Nat a desperate look, just pleading with her to say something, anything. Yet her sister seemed frozen, as if every muscle in her body wanted to stand up but none could complete their mission.

‘‘APRIL!!!’’

That voice. It couldn’t be. That day, April was losing both her life and her mind.

Everyone turned their heads towards the source of the call. Out of the corner of her eye, April noticed Wreston looking… Up?

She was definitely delusional. Because there was no way Andy was parachuting up there, descending from the blue sky like he was actually a god. An army plane flew over the corn maze near the clearing.

‘‘April!!’’ Andy called again, managing to land on his feet, in the grass a few yards away from the altar. It only took him a second to get rid of his harness, and before long he was running towards the one who went by that name.

Everyone else was looking at him, so he must have been real. He _was_ real, and he was really there.

‘‘Andy!’’ Realizing at last, April kicked her heels off and ran to meet him.

Once she did, she jumped into Andy’s arms, almost making him fall backwards. He somehow maintained his balance, though, and wrapped her in his arms as no one else could, as no one else did. His smell reminded her of bonfires, cheap laundries and wet roads. And then, they kissed like there wasn’t a whole audience in sight - half of them horrified, the other half just glad something different was happening in their lives.

They kissed as if that was now their wedding, as if that white dress had always been meant for Andy to take off of her later that night. Which he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom died at some point between chapters 2 and 3, so by this time Andy knew how to parachute already.


	11. Missing Moments - Absence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by lunabelles as some Leslie and April moment :)

_January 16, 1943_

It was a cold, windy morning, and clouds were already gathering up in the Pawnee sky. Dead leaves, mementos of a stretched on Autumn, twirled in the air with each whirlwind. Leslie’s red coat was no shield against the harsh weather, but everything seemed to fall short when it came to protection those days. A thunderstorm echoed through the empty streets, as if a whole other war was being waged above that suburban neighborhood.

By the time Leslie got to the Ludgates’ house, her fingers were so numb she barely felt them when she rang the doorbell. It took another two buzzes before some lazy steps were heard approaching the entrance.

‘‘Hi,’’ Leslie said to the young girl that opened the door. She looked quite a lot like the friend Leslie was there for; the exact same scowl, the same skin tone. ‘‘You must be April’s sister. Is she home?’’

Leslie received no answer – the girl just turned around and went upstairs without even giving her any indications. She left the door open, at least. Leslie shrugged and took that as an invitation to go in.

‘‘April?’’ she called. Again, no answer.

Somewhere in the house, a radio was on. Leslie followed the sound, passing by the family pictures on the walls as she walked down the hallway. Had she looked at them more carefully, she would have noticed none of them were recent.

Leslie’s steps took her to the living room, where April was lying on the couch with a blank stare in her eyes. She was huddled in the cold, both arms wrapped around her own body in a vain attempt to keep herself warm. The girl didn’t seem aware of the folded blanket by her feet.

‘‘Hi, April,’’ Leslie grabbed the blanket and extended it over the girl, making sure she was well covered.

‘‘Thanks,’’ April sat up a bit so her boss could sit on the other end. ‘‘What are you doing here? Did I miss work?’’

‘‘No. No, April, it’s Saturday.’’

‘‘Oh.’’

April seemed confused. They’d seen each other less than thirty hours ago, but somehow she looked even worse that afternoon. April’s voice had sounded quite hoarse, which maybe could be explained by the redness of those wide eyes, eyes that would never let others see anything. The ghost of yesterday’s hairdo hung over her face in messy waves.

Yes, April was a living wreck, but Leslie couldn’t blame her. It had been three months since Andy’s last letter. The boy was well known in town and everybody loved him, so no one had yet dared mentioning what, deep down, all Pawneeans were thinking at this point. People would just keep their mouths shut, at least whenever Mrs. Dwyer was around – they knew another loss would destroy her.

‘‘Stop looking at me like that!’’ April complained. ‘‘What do you want?’’

‘‘I just want to talk,’’ Leslie said softly, yet keeping her tone as far as possible from any sort of sympathy.

‘‘Fine.’’ Taking the blanket with her, April walked over the receiver and turned it off. ‘‘I’m sick of stupid commercials anyway.’’

‘‘Still no news?’’ Leslie asked, despite being well informed herself. But she wasn’t just asking about the radio.

‘‘No,’’ April sighed and fell back onto the couch.

None of them said anything for a while. Sometimes, Leslie prided herself on knowing April so well; she’d found a way to deal with that aloofness, and now there was room for caring and warmth, even on the coldest days. Other times, however, Leslie just couldn’t find the tools to break through April’s thick, opaque walls, not even by getting into the core of her home.

‘‘Everyone thinks he’s dead,’’ April broke the silence then. A tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it quickly. ‘‘But he’s not. I know it.’’

‘‘April…’’

‘‘It’s like no one even cares.’’

‘‘We do. Really. It’s just… there’s no way to be certain. Not during wartime.’’

‘‘What do you know?’’ April gave her a death stare.

‘‘Well, I _do_ know,’’ Leslie snapped. ‘‘This isn’t the first war I’ve lived!’’

That was true. She was only nine or ten at the time, but she still remembered everything about it. Everything.

April fixed her gaze on the hearth across the room, not really seeing anything.

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ Leslie apologized. ‘‘This is probably the last thing you needed. I’m going now.’’

The woman stood up, but stopped by the threshold when April called her name.

‘‘Yes?’’

‘‘I don’t care what those morons say. But what do _you_ think?’’

‘‘I really hope he is okay. There could be a million reasons why he hasn’t written yet. As I told you, we can never be sure… But I really hope he’s still alive.’’

After all, hoping wasn’t the same thing as thinking or believing. To what extent did April take the hint was anyone’s guess.

‘‘Thank you,’’ April hugged her legs on the couch, the blanket still over her shoulders.

‘‘I left you some waffles in the kitchen, by the way. Also, you should take some days off.’’

The girl nodded at her, gratefully, yet never smiling. Outside, the rain was pouring down now, lashing furiously against the windows.

‘‘Okay…’’ Leslie said, awkwardly, with no tools at hand. ‘‘I’m leaving now.’’

‘‘Wait!’’ April called again before she could walk any farther. ‘‘You can stay for a while, if you want.’’

‘‘Of course,’’ Leslie half smiled. ‘‘Do you have any whipped cream?’’


	12. Missing Moments – Brothers and Lighthouses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lunabelles made up the ''author's choice'' request and this was the result :)

_May 6, 1943_

As it turned out, Andy wasn’t dead. The beeping on the machine told him otherwise. And sure hospitals weren’t needed in Heaven. Except he might have lost the chance to go there at this point. Maybe that was just a limbo. Or hell, since April didn’t seem to be around.

‘‘Morning, partner,’’ Ben’s voice said.

Andy’s eyes refocused on the slim figure sitting on the chair next to his bed. He realized now how comfortable that mattress was compared to the cot back at the quarters. Still, he’d known better beds, far, far away from there.

‘‘Morning,’’ Andy yawned.

He tried to stretch out, but an excruciating pain shot up his left leg right then. The patient on the bed across the room was woken by Andy’s following howl, bolting upright as if he’d been having some kind of nightmare.

‘‘Damn it!’’ Andy grunted as the pain slowly lessened. He noticed the plaster cast covering up to his knee. ‘‘What’s with my leg?’’

‘‘Don’t you remember?’’

Andy squinted, as if memories were as physically far as they were in his mind.

‘‘Uh, kind of. My plane crashed, right?’’

‘‘With another, no less,’’ Ben chuckled.

‘‘Was it German?’’

‘‘Yeah. It only hit you on the front, but it could have been worse,’’ Ben frowned, now serious. ‘‘It’s kind of a miracle that you are alive.’’

‘‘No,’’ Andy remembered at last. ‘‘Oh my God, Ben, it was you who saved me!’’

‘‘I wouldn’t say that,’’ he waved him off.

‘‘You did!’’ Andy held out a hand; Ben stood up to shake it. ‘‘Thank you, man. I owe you my life.’’

‘‘You are welcome, partner.’’

‘‘We’re not partners. We’re brothers.’’

‘‘Okay,’’ Ben smiled. ‘‘Oh, I almost forgot, you’ve got mail.’’

‘‘Really?’’

Andy’s new sibling fumbled in his uniform pocket and took out a bone-colored envelope, which he recognized instantly. Maybe April _was_ there, in a way.

 

‘‘You really love that girl, don’t you?’’ Ben asked as Andy folded up the letter.

Andy simply nodded, because he’d never been good with words, and whatever response he’d come up with couldn’t do his feelings justice. But then, some embarrassing thought assaulted him.

‘‘You didn’t read it, right?’’

‘‘What? No!’’ Ben scoffed. ‘‘Of course not. It’s just…’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘The way you talk about her… Man, you should have seen your face a minute ago.’’

‘‘Is that bad?’’

Andy couldn’t think of a single way in which what he and April had could be wrong. But again, the lines between good and bad could get quite blurry in a world where killing was considered to be the right thing, where your best friends died, where being away from your loved ones left you guideless, hopeless. But those letters were his guide, and April was his only hope.

‘‘No,’’ Ben reassured him. ‘‘It’s a good thing. A really good thing.’’


	13. Missing Moments - Graduable

_May 11, 1964_

‘‘I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer,’’ the old man leaned forward over the mahogany desk and interlaced his fingers. His bald head was huge, and so were those glasses he had to push up every ten seconds, so he must have been very wise. Except none of what he was saying made any sense. ‘‘I just don’t see any other option.’’

April reached for Andy’s hand and gave it a weak, almost imperceptible squeeze, like she did whenever she wasn’t really sure what to do.

‘‘But Nat’s been working so hard all year,’’ she said desperately. ‘‘Maybe she just needs a different approach to some of the subjects. And her music grades were excellent…’’

‘‘Life is not about plucking strings on some useless noise box, Mrs. Dwyer. The girl needs to be able to tell the difference between X and Y axis, for God’s sake!’’

‘‘Screw the axis!’’ Andy bawled out. ‘‘Plus, I’m sure you’re making those u-’’

‘‘Honey, no,’’ April placed her free hand over his mouth.

Andy looked at her and nodded, now calmer. Sometimes he went too far, he was well aware of that, but April knew exactly how and when to stop him. He kissed her palm, a promise that his next words would be more reasonable, and only then did she remove it.

‘‘All her friends are starting high school next year. She can’t be the one who doesn’t,’’ Andy said.

And then, his wife’s eyes widened. There was a hint of terror in them, as if she’d never considered that before.

‘‘She can’t go through that alone,’’ April muttered to herself, yet Andy heard every word.

And then, something changed in her expression. In a matter of seconds, April went from terrified to terrifying. For the first time, Andy realized he had no secret way to stop her.

‘‘Listen to me, you wrinkled trash bag,’’ she let go of Andy’s hand and stood up, looking down at the startled principal, who was now paralyzed against the back of his leather chair. ‘‘There better be a way for my daughter to make up for those stupid grades. Or else, I will tell everyone how you made a pass at me right under this table.’’

‘‘What?’’ Andy and the principal spoke at the same time.

If that douchebag had even tried to… But Andy’s fists relaxed the moment April turned briefly and winked at him.

‘‘Yeah, don’t pretend like you didn’t grab my knee with your rotten fingers,’’ she faced the man again. ‘‘My husband here saw it all, didn’t you?’’

Andy nodded, mostly because that was probably what she wanted from him, but still a bit confused by it all.

‘‘I don’t think the school board will be very pleased about you assaulting a soldier’s wife,’’ April sighed and pursed her lips, feignedly concerned about that man’s future. ‘‘But I’m sure we can reach an agreement.’’

Oh, right. So that was her plan. No wonder Andy didn’t have a subtle way to curb her speech. He didn’t need one.

‘‘Well,’’ the principal cleared his throat. ‘‘Yes, I suppose we can make an exception, considering… Natalie’s efforts. She could retake the exams next month, and if she proves she’s prepared for high school-’’

‘‘Which she is,’’ Andy pointed out.

‘‘In that case, your daughter won’t have to repeat the year.’’

‘‘Thanks,’’ April shouldered her purse, a satisfied smile on her face. ‘‘I think we’re done here. Let’s go honey.’’

* * *

‘‘Why do you think they called them?’’ Barb asked as she bounced her leg impatiently. ‘‘I’m gonna be late for drama class.’’

‘‘I don’t know,’’ Nat sighed.

Except, of course, she knew. But the last thing she needed was her straight-A sister babbling about how things would be better if she’d done this or that. Natalie had worked hard – they all knew laziness wasn’t the problem.

A couple of minutes later, the principal’s office door opened across the hallway. Barb jumped on her feet from the wooden bench as soon as both of their parents stepped out.

‘‘Finally!’’ the blonde girl exclaimed. ‘‘C’mon, mom, the class starts in ten minutes!’’

‘‘We have plenty of time, Barb.’’

Natalie couldn’t help but notice April’s eyes were fixed on her, even as she talked to Barb. It wasn’t a scolding look; her mother didn’t even seem disappointed. In those wide eyes, Nat saw nothing but care and a deep, deep concern.

‘‘We’ll talk tonight, okay?’’ April said to them –to her?– as Barb dragged her by the hand towards the exit. ‘‘Wait.’’

‘‘Mom!’’ Barb complained when April walked back to Natalie and Andy.

Everything that might have happened inside that office was instantly erased the moment Natalie felt her mother’s arms wrapping around her.

* * *

_Whispering Bells_ by The Del Vikings was the only thing between them and silence. Riding in the car with her father was one of Natalie’s favorite things, especially when that old radio decided to work properly and the sky was clear. She stared through the window as those Washington D.C. locals and pedestrians passed by, wondering about everyone’s lives, jobs and loved ones. Just coming to terms with the fact that they were _someone_ , that they were here for a reason, and most importantly, they had the competences to complete whatever their mission in this world was.

‘‘You know it’s not a big deal, right?’’ Andy asked after a while.

‘‘What?’’

‘‘I used to fail all the time,’’ he chuckled. ‘‘School wasn’t really my thing.’’

‘‘But I like school,’’ Nat frowned at the windshield. ‘‘I just… I guess I’m too dumb to be any good at it.’’

The tires shrieked against the road when Andy suddenly hit the brakes, and that windshield would have taken revenge on Nat’s glare hadn’t her father extended one arm to make up for the seat belt their Chevy lacked.

‘‘Look at me.’’

Natalie did as told, but all those curls didn’t really let her see Andy’s expression. One of his big hands gently pulled her strands back, revealing a stern look in his eyes. Which was rare. He then switched the radio off, which was even rarer.

‘‘I really like that song,’’ Nat said.

‘‘Me too!’’ Andy smiled excitedly, as if he’d forgotten why he’d turned it off in the first place. But then, he shook his head, focusing again on whatever conversation he wanted them to have. ‘‘Listen,’’ he went on, ‘‘I’ve never been too smart-’’

‘‘Dad…’’

‘‘Let me finish. Everyone thought I was too dumb to even make a living. And, to be honest, I think even my mother was glad I was conscripted, deep down. After all, what else could I do?’’

Natalie wanted to cut him off again. He certainly wasn't dumb, but he talked a lot of nonsense.

‘‘Nah, I’ve never been much intelligent. But, Nat, you are.’’

‘‘But I’m failing everything!’’

‘‘That doesn’t mean a thing, baby! Do you think Biology saved me in Europe? What did Math ever do for me every time I had to say goodbye to your mother? Not knowing all those things… Does that make me love you guys any less?’’

‘‘No.’’

At that moment, it didn’t feel like she was talking to her father. Or, at least, not to the part of him that she knew. And this side of Andy was something Nat wanted to explore in many, many more car rides.

‘‘Exactly,’’ Andy smiled at her. ‘‘But that’s not even the point. You _are_ smart. It’s just that the things you are good at are not gradable,’’ he shrugged. ‘‘Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.’’

‘‘Gradable, huh? You have such a great vocabulary for a non-smart guy,’’ Natalie mocked.

Both stuck their tongues at each other, as if that conversation had been all but serious.

‘‘Well,’’ he said, ‘‘maybe I’m a bit smart, too.’’

Andy shifted into forward gear and the Chevy’s engine roared to life.

‘‘Yeah,’’ Nat turned the radio back on. ‘‘Maybe you are.’’


	14. Missing Moments - Extraordinary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lunabelles as _something with the twin girls_ :)

_November 4, 1950_

Unlike her sister, who would normally fall asleep shortly after breastfeeding time, Barbara was often energized with every meal. Putting her down to nap was an impossible mission for a while, and usually they had to calm her in a different room from the nursery so Natalie wouldn’t be woken up by all the bawling.

At least until that night – the night they found what exactly did the trick. As it turned out, the only thing Barb needed was the sound of another heartbeat, or maybe just the soothing rock of a breathing chest beneath her. Particularly, Andy’s.

By the time April was putting the last stitches in Jack’s favorite little pants –he’d been quite upset since he’d fallen from the swing and ripped them at the knee–, both Barb and Andy were sleeping soundly on the couch. The baby girl was lying on her stomach, her face turned to one side as her tiny body bobbed with each of Andy’s heavy breaths.

‘‘Well, I think I’m done,’’ April said to her son once the hole was repaired. She held the fixed piece in the air so Jack could see the result. ‘‘What do you think?’’

Jack’s jaw dropped instantly. ‘‘Mom! You can do magic!’’

April smiled at his ability to link almost every mundane thing to the supernatural.

‘‘Thank you,’’ Jack ran over the armchair where she was sitting and hugged her legs.

‘‘You are welcome, baby,’’ April kissed the top of his head. ‘‘Hey, what do we do with these two?’’

The five-year-old looked up and watched his dad and his sister sleep across the room.

‘‘We can take Barb to her crib,’’ he said, pensively. ‘‘But I don’t think we’re strong enough to carry dad.’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ April went along with it. ‘‘You’re probably right.’’

 

Jack followed his mother to the nursery, only a few steps behind. She gently placed the baby in the crib and then pulled the white, silky sheet over her. April stared down at the two beautiful drops of water lying there, letting that extraordinary feeling spread in her chest, one that Jack would also have described as magical. Not in the sense that it defied explanation, but in the sense that the explanation itself was wonderful. Never in a million years would Andy and April have expected such a double miracle.

Only Jack’s voice, another wonder, could have broken her reverie just then.

‘‘I have a problem,’’ he scowled.

‘‘What is it?’’

‘‘I can’t tell them apart.’’

‘‘They look alike a lot, huh?’’ April bent down next to him. Then, she pointed at Natalie’s ankle, where there was a strange birth mark. ‘‘See?’’

‘‘Yeah.’’

‘‘Barb doesn’t have that one,’’ she showed Jack the evidence.

‘‘But what if they have socks on?’’

‘‘Yeah, good point,’’ April chuckled. ‘‘Well, I’m sure you won’t need to check that, eventually. You’ll just know.’’

‘‘And how do _you_ know already?’’

‘‘I dunno,’’ April shrugged, a playful smile on her lips. ‘‘Maybe it’s magic.’’

Jack’s dark eyes widened in awe.

‘‘C’mon, let’s get you in bed.’’


	15. Missing Moments - This Love Is Ours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came along after a conversation on how April and Andy would deal with the social judgement in town regarding their unique relationship, and how little would they care about it. Thanks to lunabelles for suggesting such a good topic to write about ^-^

_May 21, 1940_

The soiree had been a disaster. Harmful words and awkward silences danced in pairs inside April’s mind. The small clock on her bedside table said it was well past eleven, yet Andy’s hurt expression kept appearing before her every time she closed her eyes. She couldn’t stand to see him in pain, even if the source was an irrational, nonsensical feeling of embarrassment. But, above all, she couldn’t stand the person who had caused it all to begin with.

After all, there was really no reason for that dinner to happen.

‘‘We need to know who you’re spending so much time with,’’ her father had told her. ‘‘Bring the boy for supper before you guys go any further.’’

 _Bring_. He hadn’t even said _invite_. But it wasn’t like April’s parents didn’t know Andy already – one of the worst things about Pawnee was how everybody knew everybody else. Plus, Andy was one of the most popular boys in town, and all the misfortunes his family had gone through elicited a sense of sympathy among those who still had some decency. But not everyone fell for Andy’s amicable ways, especially not April’s father, who had spent all night looking for the best way to humiliate him.

She’d barely been able to keep herself together at the door, when he’d waved her goodbye from the distance with that apologetic smile, a smile April knew had vanished the moment he’d turned around. Sadness and anger teamed up to paralyze her, even though all she wanted to do was letting go of her father’s ‘‘casual’’ grip and run barefoot to hug him until she’d soaked up all shame from him.

Instead, she’d stood there and watched him go, and now regret and frustration were responsible for her insomnia. April didn’t even bother to change into some decent clothes before she went downstairs and sneaked out of the house.

 

The Slug Lady eyed April from across the street. She was Andy’s most annoying neighbor, and she’d earned that name when a plague of slugs invaded her sidewalk and she decided to adopt them as pets. Now she was walking her dog –why she did such thing at midnight was another reason to question the woman’s sanity– and kept watching as April looked for something to throw at her boyfriend’s window.

She seriously doubted some small rocks would get the job done –very few things would wake Andy up–, but she didn’t really have many other things at hand. Except maybe for the Slug Lady’s dog, but she knew the poor animal wasn’t the one to blame. Strangely enough, Andy’s window opened right after the second stone hit the pane. He probably was having trouble sleeping, too.

‘‘Can I come in?’’

‘‘Sure,’’ Andy grinned at her from the second floor. ‘‘Give me a second.’’

April walked towards the front door and darted a death stare at the woman, whose judging expression was perfectly clear under the moonlight. It didn’t take long for Andy to reach the hall and open the door. April threw her arms around him, doing exactly what she couldn’t do before. She felt his face burying in her hair, breathing in her scent and exhaling out his abashment.

Not until they broke apart did Andy notice his neighbor’s presence. April read his face, and hated her even more. For him, that night, it was probably the last straw.

* * *

‘‘I don’t care what my father thinks,’’ April said once they were lying on Andy’s bed. ‘‘I don’t care what anyone in this town thinks, actually.’’

April nestled closer against him.

‘‘I don’t know,’’ he sighed. ‘‘He was kind of right.’’

‘‘About what?’’

‘‘I’m not good enough for you. I mean, I didn’t even go to college.’’

‘‘Why should that matter?’’

‘‘Because-’’ Andy began, but April wasn’t going to let him go on with the nonsense.

‘‘Andy,’’ she cupped his cheeks in her hands. ‘‘I love you the way you are, okay? I wouldn’t want you to be any different, at least not because some Republican relic like my father says so.’’ And then, her voice softened. ‘‘I’m proud of you, okay?’’ April almost whispered, not because she was unconvinced, but precisely because the truth in those words made them strong enough per se.

‘‘Okay,’’ Andy half-smiled before she kissed him.

* * *

After one of Mrs. Dwyer's best breakfasts ever (the woman really outdid herself that morning), Andy walked April home. She was still wearing her nightgown, which attracted everyone’s attention as they walked down the streets holding each other’s hands. But they couldn’t care less. Even Andy seemed completely unaffected by it, waving happily at everyone who stared.

April could only hope her father had gone to work before noticing her absence. Not that his opinion mattered, but she could really spare the reprimand.


	16. Missing Moments - Moonless Tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another author's choice for lunabelles. Sorry in advance for the lack of... plot?

_February 1, 1943_

Another wave of pain spread through April’s chest – the source was unclear, though it felt like the aching tide was ruled by something in the back of her heart. Both lungs were hit right afterwards, leaving her out of breath for a moment.

She thought this would get better in time, either because more news were still yet to come, or because she’d somehow get stronger enough to bear his absence. But none of those things happened, and, of course, no letters from Andy had arrived to the Ludgates’ house.

Maybe stupid Pawneeans were right. Maybe she should wrap her head around the idea that her boyfriend might actually be gone forever, that he may be… The pain slapped April again, leaving wet trails on both cheeks and making her roll over in bed as she covered her head with a pillow that no longer smelled like him.

‘‘Okay,’’ April mumbled against the sheets. ‘‘Breathe.’’

Yet again, following her own advice wasn’t exactly an easy task, just like it wasn’t easy to stay as strong as she knew she should be. But could she? Was that strength in her nature? Or rather something one had to be handed by Experience? April had gone through enough before, yet she felt as weak as she’ll ever be.

Either way, it was time to ponder all the possibilities. More than three months had passed since she’d last heard from him, and the word was on the street that the Dwyer kid had ended up as expected – he was never cut out for war, anyway. And, in that case, April would need to toughen up if she wanted to survive the following tsunami. Because she wanted to survive, she would have to. If only for all the people she still loved. If only for what would still be left of herself.

But such strength needed training, and the bed wasn’t helping. Poetry, however, sure would. And so, she started writing again.


	17. Missing Moments - The Kids Were Young and Pretty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt lunabelles requested as "the type of kiss that really shouldn’t be happening, it’s a mistake, but you just can’t find yourself able to pull away."

_Pawnee, 1933._

‘‘And those guys you faff around with,’’ Mr. Ludgate grouched as he added an unhealthy amount of salt to his rare steak, ‘‘God knows what they do to you.’’

April took a deep sigh, focusing to keep herself from sticking a fork into her father’s eye.

‘‘Larry…’’ Mrs. Ludgate warned him.

‘‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, dad. You’ve known them their whole life. They’ve been my friends since, like, forever.’’

That was true. Pawnee was a one horse town in every way possible: only one hospital, only one theater, only one school. All kids knew each other, and so did their parents. They’d grown up together, for heaven’s sake.

‘‘Yes, but things are different now,’’ Mr. Ludgate said. ‘‘You are not children anymore.’’

‘‘Exactly. I’m sixteen, dad. I’m old enough to go out after dinner.’’

‘‘Yeah, you’re such a grandma,’’ Natalie scoffed beside her.

‘‘You don’t fool me, April. D’you think I don’t know what’s going on between you and the Dwyers’ kid?’’

April’s mother offered them the plate of green beans so they could serve themselves too, but no one seemed to notice.

‘‘That’s nothing, dad. We’re just friends.’’

Why did everyone always assume they were together? Or, at least, that they should be? Yes, he was her best friend; they’d hang out together more often than they did with the others in the group. But Andy was a senior, and he had plenty of equally popular girls already in the palm of his hand.

‘‘His family is trash. He’s not even going to college next year,’’ Larry shook his head, disapprovingly. ‘‘I don’t want you wasting your time with him, you understand?’’

‘‘But-’’

‘‘I said you’re not going, period. And Natalie…’’ he turned to his other daughter. ‘‘Enough with the fries, darling.’’

* * *

April wasn’t supposed to be there. For the first time ever, she thought she should have obeyed her father and stayed home. But who wouldn’t sneak out when Andy Dwyer throws small rocks at your window, and threatens to start singing right there if you don’t come down?

At first she’d been glad to follow him – he didn’t really need to blackmail her. But now, at Stacey’s house, playing that new game someone had heard about while in Eagleton, April just wanted to throw up and go home. Things got worse when the spinning bottle stopped and pointed both at her and at the only person fate could have paired April with.

Andy stood up first, a dumb smile on his face as he helped her get up from the pristine carpet. They then walked over the closet, and he opened the door for her.

‘‘This is weird,’’ Andy chuckled once no one could see nor hear them.

There was only one lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, but it was enough to illuminate such a small space. Andy leaned back against the opposite wall with both hands in his pockets.

‘‘What are we supposed to do here?’’ April asked awkwardly.

‘‘Kissing, I guess,’’ he shrugged.

April rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like it’d never occurred to her, actually. Sometimes, when Andy wrapped her in his arms, or after a whole afternoon fixing her bike at the Dwyers’ barn, or when he played for her his latest song and looked at her that way… On those occasions, she couldn’t help but wonder. But April wouldn’t let the fantasy go any further.

‘‘Don’t worry,’’ she snorted. ‘‘You don’t have to do that.’’

‘‘It wouldn’t be a problem, though.’’

April half-smiled, looking into his eyes to figure him out. She did that easily by this point, but she wanted to make sure his usual honesty was still there.

‘‘Hey, huh… Are you okay?’’ Andy asked. ‘‘I know this isn’t exactly your thing.’’

‘‘Not exactly,’’ she admitted, because his honesty was contagious.

‘‘I’m sorry I brought you here. I thought we’d go to the channel, like always.’’

‘‘It’s okay,’’ she sighed. ‘‘I’m not staying much longer, anyway.’’

‘‘Hey,’’ his eyes widened as they did whenever one of those crazy ideas popped into his head. ‘‘What if we do go to the channel?’’

‘‘I don’t know… They seem quite into that stupid game.’’

Plus, she had this urge to be alone that would sometimes come to her for no apparent reason. If only…

‘‘No, I mean, just the two of us,’’ Andy smiled eagerly. ‘‘We could roll down the canal walls or something.’’

Had Andy suggested that to the other teenagers outside, they would have laughed at his face. But he knew he could say that kind of stuff around her, to let his true self show. April pursed her lips as she considered the offer, but there wasn’t much to think about. _Alone_ was always better than groups, but Andy was always better than _alone_.

‘‘Okay,’’ April agreed. ‘‘How do we get out of here?’’

‘‘Hmm… How about we pretend we kissed and we wanna go somewhere more private?’’

‘‘You don’t care what they’ll think?’’

‘‘About what?’’ he asked, genuinely oblivious of the fact that, even though April was well integrated in their group of friends, she wasn’t exactly the kind of girl someone like Andy would go out with. It just wouldn’t be believable.

Yet, Andy was taking her by the hand and opening the closet door before she could even argue. He went ahead with his plan, and, somehow, their friends bought it.

* * *

‘‘I’ve always liked this view,’’ Andy nodded towards the horizon, where the Pawnee streetlights and suburban houses looked so small in the distance.

They were sitting on top of one of the dry culverts in the abandoned waterway that used to discharge into Ramsett lake. It was their favorite spot to hang out at ever since the older boys had got their driving licenses, and now that everyone was at Stacey’s, they had the whole place to themselves.

‘‘Yeah,’’ she rested her head on his shoulder. ‘‘I can even see my house from here.’’

‘‘Can you?’’

‘‘Uh-huh. That one right there,’’ April pointed to the far off town with one finger.

‘‘That’s incredible. For me it’s just a blurry mass of lights.’’

‘‘You have terrible eyesight, Andy,’’ she laughed.

‘‘Well, I see _you_.’’

‘‘Really?’’ April leaned back so she could eye him. ‘‘And what do you see?’’

‘‘That something is bothering you. Maybe something that happened at school, or at home. I don’t know. I also see that you didn’t eat much tonight, because your stomach is making weird sounds,’’ he laughed, but then, his expression turned serious. ‘‘I see why you love jazz but hate swing music. I see those heels must be killing you, and that you’d much rather be wearing your saddle shoes. Yeah, the yellow ones.’’

‘‘What else?’’ she asked, mesmerized.

‘‘I don’t know,’’ he shrugged. Andy stared into her eyes, concentrated, inspecting for anything he could have missed. ‘‘I see how you’re the most amazing girl in town. It’s always better when you’re ar-’’

April didn’t even let him finish. She kissed him, despite it not being the smartest thing to do, considering both his options and her status in high school; despite it being the last thing her family wanted for her. She didn’t care about any of that, and apparently, neither did Andy, because he kissed her back as if he’d been wanting to do it for years.

And the rest is history.


End file.
